Fimbrethil's Return
by Thalia Weaver
Summary: Yet another of my Ent stories...the Entwives are despairing...will they come back?
1. Default Chapter

Fimbrethil's Return  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own this…I only own myself, and my alter ego Happy Elf Smiley, or ^.^ (see the pointy ears…admire the pointy ears…) And a huge debt of gratitude to my parents, inspirations, friends and role models (Enya, J.R.R. Tolkien, Esther Friesner…)  
  
A/n: I always thought that perhaps the most beautiful, tragic, and compelling parts of the canon are the Ents and Entwives, and their separation (other than the elves, and the Rangers, and the War of the Ring, and…). Moved by this, I decided to write a reunion story…I was also driven by the utter lack of the big wooden guys in fanfiction, so I decided to take the mantle of responsibility upon my own humble shoulders. This story is completely unrelated to my other love story/Entwife-Ent tale, 'Entling', but if you read this…read that too, please…;-)  
  
Prologue: Discontent, or Waiting For the Change  
  
The fields, as usual, were golden; the flowers rich, the grass emerald. And yet- and yet- something was missing. The Entwives had begun to feel as though each day dawned alike, despite the passing of the seasons. Time passed slowly, crawling, caught. Even the flowers of the spring appeared to be waiting, trapped in a limbo, hanging in the air exhausted by the effort of patience.  
  
Fimbrethil walked among her flaxen fields, the feeling of discontent within her growing tall as an oak sapling. She had begun to dream of Fangorn again, as she had from the first moment their eyes had met. He haunted her steps, his trees shadowing her, blocking out the sunny flax- fields. Her heart ached for him.  
  
The places that had given her so much pleasure for so long now offered only tedium, and even moonlight- the moonlight she loved, that she had walked long hours bathed in- now held only painful memories, memories of his eyes, his hands on her hair…  
  
Alenor, her greatest friend, had begun to long for Bregalad as well. All of the Entwives had begun to tire of their fields, begun to dream of the old times when their loves had visited them, and been with them in the moonlight…but that was long ago, before they had tired of the dark forests and wished for sunny fields and flax, grassy plains and streams. And now the moments seemed to wait, watching, waiting always, never moving.  
  
All seemed to lie in wait for the coming of something, something that would take the Entwives from their apathy, force them to leave, give them something to hope for other than dreams and memories, something to feel other than sadness and regret. The time was coming for a change. 


	2. Chapter Two: Moot

Fimbrethil's Return. Chapter 2: Moot

Disclaimer: It's not mine. Tolkien just lets me play around in his world, for which I am infinitely grateful.

A/N I: The first few paragraphs were originally snipped from the first chapter. I know they're redundant, but I LOVE the prose in there- I had saved them as a possible beginning for a new chapter, and it was quite a shock when I stumbled over them in my files! So, I continued. This chapter is from Fimbrethil's point of view, shock, shock, surprise.

A/N II: Would someone wiser than me PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, help me with Elvish? I only know what I find at the back of my copy of the Silmarillion ^^;; Anyone with a better source (not that the Silmarillion is bad…) PLEASE help me! I would love to be able to revise the rather pathetic statements in this chapter; anyone who could offer help will be thanked, flattered, and if they have stories, reviewed excessively! For another bribe, I can also beta-read, should anyone need one ^.^

~~

The moonlight drew shadows over the fields as I walked in the darkness. I had waited for the night to walk among the fields, waited for the moonlight to fall over my hair and my skin. I felt like a tree whose growth is restricted by an overhang, or some other obstruction. Always there lay a feeling of being pushed down, and underneath that a loneliness that shoved against my heart with the force of roots pushing through rock.

Each day grew upon my mind, and a feeling of anticipation grew with it. It was the calm before a storm, the zephyr of discontent that forewarned the gale. It was only a matter of time.

The passing had happened long ago, back when the skies were blue with joy and my flax and Fangorn's trees grew side by side. We had disagreed, me preferring the freedom of the field and the open sky, he the tall majesty of the forest. And his trees had grown taller, shadowing me, replacing my light with the darkness of shadow. I had left, to my tears and his sorrow, and never stopped missing him since. But now all was dark and a warning grew in my heart. Portentous clouds were forming on the horizon.

The moonlight proved to be no aid to my thoughts, but still I continued walking. The rhythm of my steps seemed to ease some of the vague discontent that coursed through me. There had been neither omen nor portent to forewarn of any specific event to fear- only this vague discontent that kept us from happiness. The only time I had ever felt the same way was immediately before I had left Fangorn- felt that my growth was restricted, that I was trapped. Perhaps the separation had gone on too long, and some mysterious force was telling us that we needed to return?

The thought of seeing Fangorn again filled me with joy. How I had loved him! Now it seemed madness to ever have left, and I realized how many years I had longed for him. Alenor, too, missed Bregalad sorely. I wondered whether the others- Tasaril, Seleralda, Mindoniel- missed their spouses as well. 

Perhaps all of us did, and in all of us this unease bloomed. Many times I had dreamed of a tall tree, that spread its branches to the sky and its roots in the earth, that spoke with the sea and the wind as its roots touched every growing thing in Arda; in every whisper of its leaves spoke the voices of all life, from the tallest redwood to the secret things growing in the mould. Time and again it had spoken to me, in leaf-rustle and the flicker of stars between its branches, and told me of things forgotten and lost, old and new; but of late it had begun to whisper of the Ents and the forests. I had thought that it was simply a creature of my own imagining, but now I was not so sure- perhaps it was the messenger of some greater power that would change my destiny and that of my friends?

One thing was certain: something was amiss. I wished for nothing more than to gather up my fellows and speak to them of what was in my mind, but each had their own separate field- and besides, I wished to speak to all at once. Perhaps it was time to call a Moot. Yes, a Moot. 

~~

The day dawned bright when early I sounded the _Or-hosta*, _lifting my voice clear above the flax fields. Tasaril came first, her willow-leaf hair flying in the breeze. 

"You sound the _Or-hosta, _sister, and I know you too well to think that you do so without cause," she said, eyeing me quizzically.

"Nay, Tasaril. That I would never do. This feeling of unrest in my heart- does it disturb your hours too?"

"Aye, mine, and Alenor's as well. But is there true reason to call a Moot?"

"Think you that all of us are so disturbed without a cause? Nay, in my mind it is an omen- an omen telling us that we must go back to the forests, back to our husbands. The time to be alone has passed."

Tasaril nodded slowly, recognizing the wisdom of my thoughts. "Long have I ached for Alanthien. But I will not make my decision yet; such hastiness would not be wise."

I grinned. "Do you remember how long it would take for Fangorn and Alanthien to agree on anything?"

She nodded, smiling wistfully. "A sapling could grow to a tall oak in the time it took for them to make a decision!"

"And they thought us hasty. Yes. Fangorn often said that I made up my mind as hastily as a mortal."

"It was always a cause of contention between Alanthien and I…" Tasaril said thoughtfully. "I miss him so. I have always longed for him, since we left. But of late the longing has flared up and lit my heart. Perhaps it is indeed an omen."

"An omen of what, and what is the omen?" Mindoniel called, coming up behind Tasaril and joining us in the center of the Moot-field. 

"Has the Moot begun?" Seleralda added, from her position directly behind Mindoniel. 

"And am I late, sister?" Alenor, who had come in with the other two, introduced her deep voice to the query.

I smiled at all of them, stepping back into my position as leader. Not for naught was I the wife of Fangorn Treebeard! 

"Nay, Alenor, you are not late, and a sad Moot it would be if it was but Tasaril and I! There will be much talk of omens now…" 

And so the Moot began. It went on for days, each one of us divulging her own unease and longing for her husband. In the end we decided as I had known we would: it was time to leave the peace of the gardens and travel back to our husbands. We did not know how many Ages of Men had passed, nor did we care to. 

At last, I would see Fangorn again! At last again I would see his forests, hear his voice again- feel his hands upon my hair- my whole body ached with longing. _Ai, Fangorn melinye! Oanten tye an alasse; hiranen nan mornie lome!**_

~~

*Roughly translated from Quenya, the _motivate-gather. _

**Again, my Quenya is AWFUL, so don't hold me responsible- Ai, Fangorn, my love! I left you because of joy; I found only dark night! (This is supposed to mean, as obviously the meaning isn't very clear, I left you because I thought I could find joy but I have only found darkness.)


End file.
